


if you'll have me

by woofgoesgho



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-04-05 02:14:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19039081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woofgoesgho/pseuds/woofgoesgho
Summary: Basically the night after the Winterfell feast where Jaime and Brienne sleep together for the first time in my own words, using the same dialogues as the show but adding context so that you can get into their heads more.  This only focuses on the first thirty minutes of the episode btw, I'm pretending that awful goodbye didn't go the way it did if it happened at all.





	1. Brienne POV at the Dinner Table

They were well into the feast when Queen Daenerys Targayren naturalized Gendry Baratheon. Everyone had thought that House Baratheon had fallen to the dust and was long gone. _Something she’d contributed to_. Something she’d never take back and do all over again if she had the chance. It seemed only a lifetime ago when she had left her whole life behind to join the Rainbow Guard for Renly, just to serve under him, to protect him, to be valiant around him, for him, to be around him. _The things we do for love,_ she thought. Of course it was only distant infatuation that she had felt for Renly. She stared across the table where Jaime was seated, directly across her. He preferred her company to his brother’s, she’d noticed. At first she’d thought it was because Tyrion was busy being the Hand to a Targaryen, and because she vouched for him, but every passing day it felt like it was something more. That Jaime Lannister enjoyed her company. _“A week with you and she’d order you to fall on your sword,”_ he’d said of Lady Catleyn, in a forest on their way to Kings Landing. The tables had turned, and Brienne was happy. He was staring at the candles on the table, looking pensive, reflecting; yet a air of ease hung around him. He sensed her staring at him and looked up at her, and smiled. He was giving her that look he had been giving her a lot of late ever since he’d arrived on  horseback to Winterfell to keep his vows, against his twin's orders, to fight beside them, _beside her._

In the candlelight he looked even more beautiful. His hair was tousled, and glow of the candle woke the blond of his hair, the right shade of blond, the most beautiful one, nothing like hers. _I was supposed to be discreet,_ she thought, breathless, caught off guard. At any other night she would’ve shied away, looked away like she hadn’t been staring, but not tonight. Tonight she met his eyes, which were filled with mirth, with the wine keeping him that way. He’s euphoric, he hadn’t expected to live past the battle, she realized. Seven hells, she hadn’t expected herself to. Yet here they were. Jaime, Podrick, herself; even Lady Sansa had survived the dead.

Podrick lifted the wine jug to fill her cup after noticing it was empty, the ever dutiful squire. But Brienne had had enough, had drunk enough. She covered her cup, placing her hand over the brim to refuse, before Jaime’s hand covered hers. His thumb lingered and its caress was so soft she wondered if she’d imagined it. He moved her hand beside the cup before he finally let go. He was smiling again. “We fought dead things and lived to talk about it,” he said, “if this isn’t the time to drink, when is?” Brienne beamed up at him, overjoyed to be alive, to have lived past the dead with her whole life back in front of her again, Podrick by her side, and  Jaime across her. She let him fill her cup and he clinked his against hers. He looked almost confident and cocky again, like he was back in Lannister armor, as he smiled at her, until he suddenly wasn’t, as he looked at her. Brienne felt giddy.

Tyrion left his conversation with Bran Stark and walked over to sit beside his brother. It didn’t take him long for him to get as buzzed as Jaime, Podrick and Brienne already were, and it wasn’t long after that the four had slipped into a drinking game of Tyrion’s own invention. He had played it with many others before, he stated.

It was Jaime’s turn to guess now.  He raised his finger at her. “You are an only child.” _You already knew this._ “I told you I was.”

 “You didn’t.”

“I did!”

“I _surmised_ ”, he said looking at Tyrion, smiling. Was it that obvious? Brienne didn’t want to think about what Jaime meant. “Drink,” the hand of the Queen said, giving her a mocking pitiful look and Brienne took another sip. Jaime continued smiling at her.

“Go again,” Tyrion ordered his brother.

“Why does he get to go again?!” Brienne said drunk and indignant as Jaime’s gaze fixated on her once more. “You dance with Renly Baratheon,” he said, his smile gone and face blank, almost accusing but not quite. _Podrick._ Her squire looked away as she regarded him. She was surprised. Had Jaime been talking with Podrick about her? Brienne didn’t want to dig deeper, all too happy because of the wine. _And Jaime._

She drunk again.


	2. Jaime POV at the Feast

Brienne was next. “You were married, before Sansa,” she said, sneaking another glance at him. She was smiling at him and he grinned back, watching her face. Suddenly he felt too giddy, dazed, and the air too hot. She looked so happy, it took him back to immediately after he’d knighted her. Jaime felt his pulse quicken.

His little brother hated it when anyone brought up Tysha. She was like to pay for that soon. Tyrion drunk, begrudgingly. “You’re drinking wine but you prefer ale!” “NO! Drink!” Brienne flustered and got a stupidly endearing expression her face as she watched them, full of glee.

“You’re a virgin.”

Her smile faltered.

“That’s a statement about the present,” Jaime implored.

 Why was Tyrion being disrespectful? _And what was he saying?_

She was a high born, and she should be proud of it. Why was he saying such things? Did he mean to fix that? Jaime did not know anymore.

“At no point in the past up until this very moment have you slept with a man… or a woman.” _Stop pushing it before I throttle you._

Brienne got up, uncomfortable. “I have to piss,” she said looking at them. Jaime stared at her. _I’m sorry about this._ “We did it, we faced those icy fucks!” a familiar voice boomed. Jaime watched her regard the wildling indifferently. The mere sight of Tormund Giantsbane served to annoy Jaime. A lot. He wondered why the wildling annoyed him so, Jaime didn’t discriminate. _You do know._ He didn’t want to think about it. “Now which one of you cowards shit in my pants?” roaring with laughter as though he had said something incredibly funny. _That’s why. And that other reason._ Jaime dismissed it again, wondering why Brienne put up with him. He rolled his eyes.

“Please pardon me for a moment,” she said to the table, somewhat specifically to him, as her stare met his yet again and turned to leave. Tormund tried to follow her on her way back to her room. Jaime had had enough of this jester. He rose up from his chair and blocked his way, looking him down coldly. He patted Tormund’s arm and turned to walk away. It was a couple corridors after that he realized what he was doing, after she’d slipped out of his sight. He stopped, and pressed his back to the wall as he tried to steady his breath.

_She looked back at me_. _I saw it._

Jaime paused and walked out to the courtyard and slumped against a wall again, and watched as the small folk and noble folk alike drunkenly mingle with one another. _Every person in Winterfell save the children is fornicating and coupling._ His breath turned into wisps of condensation from the cold. The night air wasn’t enough to calm him, so he unbuttoned the clasps of his jacket. Jaime felt intoxicated, but not from the liquor, he knew. His mind went to her. Always her, as it had more oft than not for last few weeks before he arrived at Winterfell. As though he hadn’t spent more than enough time wondering what had happened of her after she left Kings Landing with Oathkeeper. Brienne had named the sword after him, before parting ways with him for what had seemed the last time, and yet they seemed to encounter each other from time and time again.

“I’ll find Lady Sansa for Lady Catelyn,” she had said gazing at the armour he had made for her. “And for you.” Jaime felt a rush of affection wash over him. _“At no point in the past up until this very moment have you slept with a man… or a woman.”_ Did he want to? _Yes, he did. I do_. Jaime felt like laughing, until he suddenly didn’t. _Why hadn’t she drunk?_ Had something happened between her and Tormund? His head swam. _Brienne wouldn’t_ , he was nothing like anyone whom she would fancy. And would she fancy Jaime Lannister, the Kingslayer, the man who’d slept with his own twin sister? Brienne didn’t judge him anymore but that was very far from her wanting to fall into bed with him. Jaime turned and walked back into the castle heading for the kitchens. He glanced over the serving table and picked up a jug of Dornish wine, _she’d like that_ , and two cups. A serving wench noticed and smiled shyly at him as he shook his head.

Jaime made way to her quarters, he knew where they were. He’d spent almost every moment with her since he arrived here, on every table, log, training yard, small council, but not in her quarters. Yet.

He balanced the jug and the cups awkwardly before pounding at the door five times quickly before he could second guess himself. _I’m a mess_ , he thought. It was only a few seconds before the door opened and he was glancing up at Brienne of Tarth’s face again. He felt dazed, and not for the first time in that night. Suddenly everything was clear; he wanted to kiss her, fling her onto her bed and hold her, his knight, a thing of his own making, one of the few things in his life that warranted its worth, that he’d done right. He went in before she could ask him in. He had to try. If Brienne turned him down he’d leave and never try to court her again. Anything she wanted, he’d do.


	3. First Time, Jaime POV

“You didn’t drink,” he stated as though the game hadn’t ended twenty minutes ago. _Please tell me you weren’t with him and nothing happened between you and Giantsbane_ , as though he hadn’t continued being with the wrong person years after he’d met Brienne of Tarth.

“I didn’t drink?”

“In the game.”

“I drank?”

“In the game! This is Dornish.” He pointed out, flustered, pouring out a cup for her.

“This is not the game, this is only drinking,” Brienne pointed out. “Suit yourself.” he said as he offering her the wine. Brienne took a sip as she curiously watched him. Jaime suddenly felt like a deer caught before an archer. “You keep it warm enough in here,” he blurted to fill the silence, feeling extremely stupid but not enough to stop himself from yanking his jacket off awkwardly. She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. “It's the first thing I learnt when I came to the North. Keep your fire going. Every time you leave the room, put more wood on.” _Of course you would._ She had always been proper and thorough with everything, stubborn as she was. His own room always took a long time before it was warm enough. The warmth of her room called to him. He meant to stay here, lest she turned him away. “That’s very diligent, very responsible.” he said, finally flinging jacket with the same grace Tormund Giantsbane drank his liquor, and turned towards her. “Piss off.” Another crude word out of her mouth. _She’d changed_ , he mused and so had he. He went on like it hadn’t aroused him. “You know the first thing I learned in the North? I hate the fucking North.”

“It grows on you.”

 _Speaking of._  His eyes swept across her face from her mouth down to her chest where he noticed she wore nothing but her undershirt. Brienne generally kept herself more covered than a silent sister. He looked away before it became too disrespectful. “I don’t want things growing on me,” he got out, pouring himself the Dornish swill. He reminisced to when he’d tried to kill her. He’d also called her ugly, on top of trying to hack her head off for calling him a monster, something which he now agreed had been completely warranted, and then he’d called her boring before trying to taunt her in every other way he could think of, everything Tormund Giantsbane had never done, he was sure. “How about Tormund Giantsbane? Has he grown on you?” She gave him a look. “He was very sad when you left.” “You sound quite jealous,” her voice wet paper on the last word. Jaime didn’t even try to deny it. _Took her and myself long enough to notice_ , he reflected, looking away. He turned back to her. “I do, don’t I,” Jaime admitted. Her expression turned into one of being softly surprised, her eyes so wide as she held his gaze. They were so big and blue. Another wave of giddiness washed over him. He pushed forward. “It’s bloody hot in here!” he said letting out a small gust of air, palpably marking his complete lack of dignity. The stupidest Lannister indeed. He worked at his laces, failing to untangle them. Soon he started using his teeth. Brienne looked exasperated like she always did after spending any amount of time with him. “Oh, move aside!” she exclaimed, swatting his hand away. Always helpful. Jaime felt a rush of longing and yearning sweep over him, and not for the first time that night. _You’re too good to me._ He reached for her…  and tried to undo the laces of her undershirt. She froze. “What are you doing?” Brienne demanded. “Taking your shirt off.” He laid himself out completely for her to embrace or shun away. Her hand covered his which was still feebly grasping at her laces and lingered before she finally took it away. Maybe Jaime had misread everything and she hadn’t wanted him after all. He froze… and watched as Brienne undid the laces herself. _This is happening_ , he realized, transfixed, never lifting his eyes off her. Their eyes met again after she was done, only breaking the stare to get his undershirt off him. She went out of his sight for a short while before his shirt was off and she got into his view again. Brienne then took off hers. She’d always been bold, Jaime remembered, as she faced him with her chest exposed, warmth pooling in his center again.

“I’ve never slept with a knight before,” he said to his knight of his own making. Of course she’d always been one, before he had ever lain his eyes on her. “I’ve never slept with anyone before,” she admitted, her voice almost cracking. _Brienne._ Everything about her was so sweet and wonderful it made his head swim. Everything was about to change yet nothing seemed amiss. “Then you have to drink, those are the rules,” he said, in the passing. Empty words. His eyes scoured hers. They were so blue, so beautiful. He wanted to drown in them. “I told you-” Brienne managed to get out, but Jaime was no longer paying attention when he closed the distance between them, covering her mouth with his.

Jaime went on his tip toes to gain on her, and watched her face for the second when their lips met before closing his eyes, sinking into the kiss. He kissed her fervently and Brienne kissed him back awkwardly, perfectly. He got back on the balls of feet, swaying, and Brienne with him, holding onto her face for dear life. He pulled her close, their chests pressing together as he threaded his fingers through her hair. She tasted sweet, like the wine they’d drunk. Her mouth opened under his as his tongue entered hers. _Under?_  Brienne’s knees had given out. Jaime kissed her harder. Brienne moaned. A shiver of arousal went through Jaime as he lead her to her bed. They kissed slowly as her knees backed up against the frame and he lowered her gently onto the mattress.

Brienne’s skin was flushed. Her skin had a healthy glow that only came with being a swordsman… or woman. Somewhere in between all the fumbling his golden hand had pressed against Brienne’s back. “Oh,” she said, from the cold metal. “Sorry, I forgot to take it off,” he whispered, loosening the straps quickly, clumsily. He let the hand drop on the floor, forgotten along with other things like his twin. He balanced himself on his elbow, half atop the mattress, half atop her. _Curse my stump_ , he thought, positioning himself awkwardly when Brienne suddenly reached for him and cupped his face. He stilled. They stared at each other silently for seconds, before Brienne turned her face and let her lips brush his wrist next to where Locke had chopped his hand off. He felt his eyes well up and he closed them, in silent prayer for ever having met Brienne of Tarth. “Brienne,” he whispered as he reached down to kiss her once more, this time chastely. He continued downwards, pressing small kisses to her neck, before he finally settled on pressing gentle kisses over where that darned bear had clawed her, leaving behind huge scars which would never fade away. Brienne closed her eyes, and then opened them again, wide as he kissed her breasts. She gasped sharply and arched into him, her spine rigid. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, her hand caressing the nape of his neck. No one had ever responded to his touches quite like this before. She kissed his shoulders and neck, or tried to, before he moved down over her body pressing kisses all over her toned stomach.

Her breeches were still on and so were his. Not breaking eye contact, Jaime slowly undid the laces on her breeches, this time successfully unlike with the shirts. He slowly pulled them off halfway, exposing her, and Brienne looked at him, suddenly looking small, but she kicked them off and reached over to unlace his. Jaime silently watched her pull the last knot and he slipped out of his breeches and kicked them off, joining Brienne’s on the floor.

Her legs were corded from years of practice, and long, _so long_ that he felt enamored. He hooked his left arm under her left knee and it didn't take him long to start pressing wet kisses over the inside of her thighs. Her breath quickened to sharp intakes and she turned her face towards a pillow and moaned, her left hand clenching it. Jaime kissed upwards, before he paused when he found the scar from where his own sword had nicked her from a lifetime ago, in the woods- and kissed that as well, looking up at her to watch her eyes as he did it, which were now on him again. He kissed his way back up her body and soon they were kissing each other's mouths again, in a frenzy, gently wrestling each other, as his hand cupped her face and both her hands grasped at his hair clenching it with her fists, and a strangled sound escaped his lips. He kissed her cheek and she kissed his forehead before moving her lips to his jawline, her teeth raking over his skin there, ever so gently. It was all too much. Jaime moved his hand downwards tracing her body, caressing her skin, and moved it over the juncture of her thighs towards the blond hair down there. He remembered it years from ago from the tub. It had made him hard then, and it did him hard now. He spread her thighs and slipped into the space between them. Jaime moaned as Brienne kissed him deeply, more fervently, and slowly, softly, he pushed his thumb against her, in the same place he’d been taught to many times before. Her breath came down harder as she gasped and her lips grew thoughtless against his jaw, his neck. Jaime gently nipped at her lower lip, catching it with his teeth. He stilled once more and watched her, as she watched him through a narrow slit of her eye, dazed, and then pushed himself inside. There was no going back, and they didn't want to. She arched into him again, and he caught her as she fell apart in his arms. The thrill of it all sent him spiralling towards her, yearning for more. Their eyes met wordlessly as he waited for the tightness to subside. He wanted to whisper sweet words into her ear like Brienne had deserved her whole life, but words had deserted Jaime Lannister now.  _Ser Brienne of Tarth_ , he mused, as he ran his thumb over her cheek, and moved it lower to brush her over her mouth. A hot rush of her breath blew across his cheek. He held her like she was the most precious, delicate thing in the world, as though she wasn’t strong enough to kill him twice over. He closed his eyes and his lips met her neck again, and again, moaning raggedly as he pushed into her over and over, softly at first, settling into a rhythm she was fast learning and soon the softness of it all dissipated and it turned into combat. Just like a sword play, just another form of dance; it was familiar enough, Brienne wasn’t new to this. Her face flushed, the warmth emanating off her, calling to him more and more as she tried to stifle her moans. Jaime nudged her with his nose and she buried her face against his neck, fumbling and clinging onto him. Her eyes clenched shut more tightly with each thrust.

“Jaime,” she gasped, her hands clinging on to his shoulders for dear life as his hand swept over her side, tracing her breasts, moving it lower to between her thighs. A few more thrusts and soon she was falling over the edge, pulling her with him, him following her only seconds later, shuddering, shaking, feeling like his chest was going to implode. He dropped like dead weight into her as their breaths slowed down. Brienne had a bewildered air about her. Jaime himself felt like weeping, he realized, as he threaded his fingers through her hair once more. He rolled on his back, pulling her with him and tucked her head under his chin. Her fingers grazed over his skin as she looked up at him. Her eyes were wet. He smiled at her slowly, and kissed her forehead, and they lay like that for a while before Brienne drifted off to sleep. Jaime watched her sleeping form. She looked so peaceful with not a trace of her anger or of the walls she kept around hers like armor. It now finally dawned on him, properly, irrefutably; he was in love with Brienne. There was no going back from this. _Did he even want to? No._ Everything had changed and yet absolutely nothing had changed. Jaime Lannister would never be the same person again. He stayed awake for a while, before sleep finally took him, not wanting to deal or care for anything that tomorrow brought, except maybe for a certain lady knight he was acquainted with.


End file.
